“Ahhh, fuck!” Ace spurted hot, tangy streams into Paul’s mouth, and Paul drank him down.
He suckled the last drops off the tip and savored the lingering taste as Ace came down from his release.
Paul’s first thought was More.
He shook his head to clear it. He was never going to get his fill of this man. He needed to go to Overeaters Anonymous. OverAcers Anonymous?
His second bite at the apple wasn’t doing anything to satisfy his hunger. And at this moment he wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside that tight ass again.
But Steven’s guest bathroom was hardly the place for that, even though his erection was straining at the zipper of his jeans. Even though Ace’s beautiful, sated body was slumped onto the closed toilet seat. Right in front of him. Smelling of sweat and sex.
He’d have to take care of this himself.
Paul gingerly rose from his kneeling position and, turning slightly away from Ace, opened his fly and eased some of the pressure on his throbbing cock.
Ace pulled his hands away. “Let me do that,” he said huskily.
Paul looked down at him, trying to find his perfect blue eyes in the deep darkness of the small room. He wanted to try to read the emotion in them, but his brilliant plan of locking them in a dark bathroom was throwing a wrench into that.
“Be my guest,” Paul said, his voice tight with arousal.
Ace went to work on Paul’s cock with a hungry ferocity, sucking hard and wet and fast. No slow build-up, no teasing. He seemed determined to pull Paul’s load from him in record time.
Paul wanted to make this last longer, wanted to really feel every bit of Ace’s soft, full lips and hot, slick throat. But he’d been half hard almost from the moment he saw this man again, and it was long past time for him to empty his balls.
He threaded his fingers through the soft blond hair he’d been dreaming about and kept his eyes fixed on the incredible sight before him.
Which was a mistake, if he wanted to draw this out. Because even in the darkness, the image of Ace’s head bobbing on his cock and Ace’s hands gripping his hips was enough to push him over the edge.
“Ace, fuck, do you want-” he broke off helplessly.
“Now,” Ace said and swallowed him back down.
Paul’s release rushed out of him, dropping into Ace’s welcoming mouth, and Paul grunted with every spurt. He wanted to collapse in wrung-out contentment.
“Wow,” he said between pants. “I guess you really are a Boy Scout.”
Ace chuckled, remembering their first back room conversation at Sparks. “I am never selfish when it comes to orgasms.”
Something tightened in Paul’s heart when he heard that. An unselfish lover, a talented decorator, a beautiful man.
Paul wanted him. Wanted all of him. And it scared him to death.
The garage door opened with a squeaky groan that echoed through the house. Both men froze with a start, the spell broken and reality rudely returning to their lives. They quickly cleaned up and darted back to the couch and their unfinished beers.
Luckily, their flushed faces could be explained away by the hard work they had been doing all morning. But Paul caught Holly looking at him oddly once or twice.
Ace didn’t meet his eyes during the lunch break. It helped that Holly kept up a steady stream of conversation with her new gay best friend. That’s a woman who was born to be a fag hag.
During the rest of the work day, Ace kept moving constantly, directing the placement of pillows inside and mulch outside, hanging artwork and nudging furniture around. All the while, he kept his eyes elsewhere.
Paul knew there was more work to do if he was going to get another chance to be with Ace. Still had some angry defenses to break down.
And still have to be honest about yourself.
Paul watched Ace leave in his red truck mid-afternoon and knew that another one of his rules was going to be destroyed tonight.
************
Ace ached all over by the time he unfolded his body from his truck after the forty-five minute drive back to Lawrence.
It’s the sitting that kills ya. Everyone knows this. It’s not that you’re getting old, Hoffman. Weak abs notwithstanding.
He knew a day filled with yard work and home staging would take a lot out of him. But he had no idea how fully drained he would be when he finally escaped.
God, what a rollercoaster that day was. By turns tense and uncomfortable, then tense and ecstatic, then tense and awkward. But mostly just tense. And his muscles sure did feel it.
He needed to recover from … everything. First, a long soak in the tub. Second, order some chicken lo mein from Happy Garden. Third, sleep. Lots of sleep.
And fourth: Stop thinking about Paul in that damn bathroom.
Well, three out of four ain’t bad.
He walked up to his front porch, where a strong mewl greeted him from the wooden swing.
“Hey, Lola,” he said tiredly. “Back for more, baby?” He unlocked his front door and held it open. “Don’t suppose you want to come in this time?”
To his surprise, his vagrant sort-of pet immediately leapt off the swing and sauntered inside. It usually only did that on very cold or very wet nights, and tonight was decidedly neither.
Huh. Lola must have known about the upcoming lo mein. They were both suckers for it. Surely this commitment-phobic cat wasn’t adopting him for keeps?